I've been deaf since before I can remember and grew up using hearing aids, which made me adept at lip reading, an ability I still rely on heavily. It's difficult for me to explain how exactly I lip read (How exactly do you hear?), but I've been known to be skilled at it, even among my peers.

Although it comes naturally for me given my hearing impairment, lip reading isn't easy, and it doesn't result in complete comprehension: only about 35 percent of actual speech is visible on the lips. Lip reading can be done only when paired with context. What is the general subject matter? How does this person usually talk? What is their body language? If someone is angry, you can make adjustments for that. Having a strong grasp on the language is crucial as well, so your brain can automatically fill in gaps with sentences that fit the situation. The ability to think ahead to what is likely to be said also plays a major part.

More from Baseball Prospectus:

There are some words that sound alike when you say them out loud, forcing you to rely on context to differentiate between them. The same goes double for lip reading, which involves countless homophenes, words that look the same on the lips but have completely different sounds. Not to mention that the slightest differentiation in how a word is pronounced—caused by stifling a cough, a yawn, a twitch, or a jerk of the head—can change its appearance entirely. It takes a lot of brain activity and physical attention to lip read, even in a very casual environment, which is why I used to come home from school absolutely wiped out after having to lip read for hours at a time.

Lip reading is easier to do in person, with a 3D environment. Even at today's high resolutions (which do help significantly), a TV broadcast it is still 3D converted to a 2D plane, which makes it harder to decipher what is being said. There is also an incredible diversity in the ways people talk, and some simply cannot be lip read. Some people talk very fast (looking at you, Fredi Gonzalez), while others barely make any lip shapes or movements that can help an observer figure out what is being said (like you, Charlie Manuel). Mustaches and beards also complicate matters, as they can hide lips. In addition, when managers argue with umpires, they tend to be upset. In that case, they exaggerate words or speak louder, which actually impairs lip reading.

Trying to decipher the arguments between umpires and managers in the videos below was a difficult task—more difficult than I thought it would be. The 2D layer and the added complexity of cameras cutting, mouths being blocked by other figures on the field, and animated managers jumping around (Don Mattingly loves to flap his arms) didn't help matters. But I have transcribed with confidence what has been said in this piece. —Evan Brunell

(Note: rather than write "because the camera cut" or "because the third-base coach's butt was in the way," we added "[Obscured]" to the transcript whenever something interfered with the view. The headings link to full videos, and lines that led to ejections are in bold.)

Jim Tracy: (comes in at the end of a sentence) —Okay? I didn't say any of that shit.

Mike Everitt: Okay, okay. I understand.

JT: I'm just saying, he caught the fucking ball. He caught the ball. I just want you to know, I didn't fucking [Obscured] fucking ball.

[Obstructed, ejection not show]

ME: Tracy, if you're going to let me talk, let me—

ME: I let you go. We got together. We determined it was not a—

JT: You got to be shitting me

ME: I don't know what you want me to say.

[Obscured]

JT: —SHITTING ME! It's fucking unbelievable! It's unbelievable! And when it's over with, I can't wait to see the ramifications of what fucking happened! There's no fucking way! That's a fucking out! He caught the—How are you going to feel if he fucking caught the ball, which we know he did?

[Obscured]

JT: Yeah, okay, fine, [Obstructed] I wasn't [Obstructed] It was the right fucking call! (obstructed)

JM: Well, that is fucking so selfish, un-fucking-believable. Bob. BOB! You're not talking to me, the problem right there.

[Obscured]

JM: —tag him on his fucking leg, you would have looked at his fucking head! Bob, you weren't looking at his— [Obscured]. Bob—I know, but you missed, missed the most important part, Bob! [Obscured] Bob, you're not fucking—you're not fucking right, Bob!

[Obscured].)

JM: Bob, you're not right!

BD: So I understand that's [Obscured] not that great.

[Obscured]

JM: —Bob! It's fucking important to us!

BD: I [Obscured]

JM: Well, what the fuck, you can't miss that call right there!

BD: No, I didn't miss it!

JM: You fucking blew the shit out of it, Bob!

BD: I did not miss it!

JM: You fucking blew it!

BD: I did not—

JM: You fucking blew it!

BD: That's enough, Joe.

JM: You fucking blew the call, Bob!

BD: (Tosses him)

JM: You fucking blew the call! That's a real important part of the game!

After ejecting Valentine, Darling swears with such force that his gum becomes a projectile:

Gary Darling: BULLSHIT!

Bobby Valentine: [looks at gum, points finger]

GD: It fell out of my mouth!

So what conclusion can we draw? Well, Cederstrom and Weaver were right (which shouldn't come as a shock, given that one is an umpire and the other spent much of his career combating them). Most of the ejections above involved some sort of personal attach or verbal assault on an umpire's abilities. Saying "bullshit" (or the variant beloved by baseball men, "horseshit") rarely got a guy ejected, unless it was preceded by something worse. But saying "You screwed up," "you missed it," or "you have no clue what you're doing" was grounds for almost automatic ejection.

Consider this exchange from a June 16 game in which Matheny was ejected for disputing the umpires' decision to overturn a triple play:

MM: Hey, you're going to throw me out here for swearing at you? I didn't say anything about you. I just said you guys, you both missed the call! And you're going to throw me out for that? Is that what you're throwing me out for?
…MM: I didn't say ANYTHING about you! You know that!

Matheny insisted he hadn't said anything personal, but saying "you missed the call" seems like something—maybe the rookie manager, with only one career ejection under his belt, wasn't yet attuned to what he could and couldn't get away with. Still, even he had the expectation that shouting and swear words, which might be sufficient to start a fight somewhere else, weren't a serious infraction on a baseball field.

After decades of on-field fights, both parties have come to an understanding of what can and can't be said. The heated arguments we see from afar​-even when they do arise out of actual frustration-are really a kind of choreographed Kabuki in which both managers and umpires adhere to a script perfected by their predecessors. And each side gets something out of it: the umpire upholds his authority, while the manager rallies the fans or supports his players.

Really, it's the original reality TV. And even if it's mostly scripted, it's still a lot of fun. —Ben Lindbergh